


oh, baby, you're a classic

by Flumes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Ennoshita is Thirsty, Fluff, M/M, Tanaka is in a metal band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flumes/pseuds/Flumes
Summary: Chikara might be one of the most sought after directors in the business but that doesn’t mean even he doesn’t get subjected to the meddling of execs. Money rules, and that adage is no truer anywhere else than in the movie industry.





	oh, baby, you're a classic

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little EnnoTana thing for a friend who likes this ship.

 

Chikara might be one of the most sought after directors in the business but that doesn’t mean even he doesn’t get subjected to the meddling of execs. Money rules, and that adage is no truer anywhere else than in the movie industry.

 

“I don’t care how famous he is. I’m famous! My name brings viewers! I want talent, not a big name,” he protests.

 

Director Ukai leans back on his seat, legs propped up on the desk as he takes a drag from his cigarette. “The man is talented. Try him out. I think you’ll be surprised.”

 

“What I think Director Ukai means to say,” Deputy Director Takeda interjects, “is that we feel – that a lot of people feel – that Tanaka Ryuunosuke would really fit the role of Hiro.”

 

“It’s more than just _looks_.”

 

Ukai just shrugs. “It’s Tanaka or there’s no movie.”

 

Chikara storms out, rattling the glass door of Ukai’s office. Several heads turn to gawk at him as stomps through the up-scale, all modern minimalist building, resisting the urge to kick at a particularly offensive potted plant in the corner. _Fuck them!_ There’s nothing he hates more than having his creative license restricted because of _money._

 

Filmmaking is his passion but sometimes he really hates the industry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It gets worse when he searches The Skinheads on YouTube and clicks the first result – a video called ‘Deathspike’ – and winces as the guitar screeches in his ears. That has nothing on when the drums kick in and then Tanaka himself steps up to the mike, screaming words that Chikara has no hope in hell of ever understanding. Dressed in a black tank that shows muscled arms and head shaved, he looks like a thug with that snarl twisting his features. Chikara yanks out his earphones and just stares at the video in horror until it finally ends, seeing his own wide, dark eyes reflect back at himself in the black screen of his laptop. _I’m doomed._

 

Chikara busies himself with preparation until the first table read and he waits at his seat, taking several quick sips of his bottled water as the first of the actors shuffle in, looking sleepy from the early hour. Many of them clutch coffee like it’s a lifeline. Not Kiyoko Shimizu though, who strides in looking radiant in just a pair of skinny jeans and a plain t-shirt, her long black hair framing a model’s face, and big grey eyes behind her glasses. The mole on the left side of her face gives her just that little touch of character that makes her so perfect for the big screen. _That and her acting skills._ They’ve worked together on many productions and she is the most professional big name he’s ever worked with, taking prompts easily while adding her own creative flare to the script.

 

“Morning, Kiyoko. Nice to work with you again,” he says, trying to calm his jittering nerves.

 

“And you as well,” she says in her soft voice. “I enjoyed the script so I was thrilled when my agent called me with the part.”

 

“Yeah, Futakuchi really knows how to get inside a character’s head. I swear if he wasn’t so damn difficult I’d never work with anyone else.”

 

She smiles. “You know what they say about writers.”

 

Chikara grimaces and tips his bottle at her. “That I do. Such fragile creatures.”

 

It’s at that moment that _he_ walks in. At first Chikara barely recognises the man. He saunters in with a bright smile, wearing a plaid shirt and a beanie slouched on his head, waving to one of the cast members when he appears to recognise them. The final nail in the coffin are the glasses that he pushes up the edge of his nose, somehow only accentuating nice cheekbones and a jawline Chikara could cut his steak with. _A good face for camera,_ his mind automatically notes, and then it hits him.

 

That’s Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Chikara sits up in his seat.

 

“Mornin’ everybody,” Tanaka says through a yawn. “I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Please take care of me.”

 

Chikara gets an even bigger surprise as they start sifting through the script, beginning with a scene in the middle that is particularly emotionally charged, with Hiro’s mother dying in a car accident.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tanaka reads in a whisper. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son. I’m sorry I dropped out of school when you only wanted the best for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t…” he chokes off and Chikara actually _believes_ it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, when you needed me most.”

 

“Do you know?” he says, finally looking up, eyes locking on Chikara and he shivers. “While you were dying I was buying a pack of smokes.” He huffs a soft laugh, eyes falling back to the script. “Thought you might get a laugh at that one.”

 

It’s understated. Tanaka isn’t trying to oversell it; he’s becoming the character, shedding one skin and taking on a new one. Chikara continues to listen to him, impressed with how easily he and Kiyoko play off of one another in the next scene, hope flickering in his heart.

 

When they wrap up for the day Chikara thanks them. “Excellent work today, everyone. I can’t wait until we can get to filming. I can feel this is going to be a good one.”

 

There’s a murmur from the room and a few of them take to clapping as they all get up and start making their way out. Chikara moves towards Kiyoko and Tanaka when he overhears their conversation.

 

“Hey, beautiful,” Tanaka winks at Kiyoko, “want to go over our lines at my place? Maybe grab some dinner.”

 

“No thanks,” Kiyoko says and walks off without a glance backward.

 

Tanaka lets out a lovelorn sigh, cheeks flushed pink.

 

Chikara reconsiders. Maybe Tanaka is exactly what he expected.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first day of filming is always an apprehensive moment for Chikara, as he finally gets to view everything he has imagined in front of him through the lens of his camera. The set looks amazing; his set designers have done an insightful job in creating the inside of Hiro’s apartment, all sleek bare lines and lots of open space to reflect the emptiness of his life before he meets Kiyoko’s character. As she becomes a part of his life the space will gradually fill up with knickknacks – tickets from movie dates pinned to the fridge, pictures of them together on the walls, and little decorations that make the place feel more homely. It’s the small things that matter and this is why Chikara is so good at what he does.

 

“Alright, everyone!” he barks, clapping his hands. “To your places, please.”

 

To his chagrin it turns out Tanaka is good friends with Noya, a stuntman with some acting experience that Chikara has used in supporting roles for a few of his action films. They laugh and joke about some old sports game as the crew check all the lighting and sound equipment are working properly. _They better be ready to go,_ he thinks, watching them shove each other playfully, Noya jumping up in down in his usual boyish exuberance.

 

Chikara will give them credit where it’s due, though. When he calls out, “Camera rolling!” the transformation between the two of them nearly gives him whiplash. From loose, relaxed and having fun, suddenly Tanaka is Hiro – tense and angry from the death of his mother, the bow of his back outlined in the lighting that mimics daylight from the fake window – and Noya is the hitman working for the local mobster, mouth curving into a violent smile as he pulls out his pistols.

 

“Action!”

 

The scene begins with the camera on Tanaka’s face, crumpled with mourning, lip quivering as he leans against the window frame and stares out into the city without seeing. Chikara doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath, perched on the edge of his director’s chair as the camera zooms out, foregrounding a much smaller Hiro – for in this moment he is no one but Hiro – in the emptiness of his apartment, emphasising his loneliness.

 

Chikara holds up two fingers. A beat. One finger. A beat. His fist.

 

Then Noya comes storming into the apartment guns blazing, one of the crew banging a board so the actors know when to react to each gunshot that will be edited in later. Like they’ve rehearsed endlessly with the choreographer, Tanaka ducks and rolls out of the way behind the sofa, scrambling towards the open kitchen where he keeps his gun.

 

They pull off the rest of the scene ridiculously well given it’s the first time they’ve acted the whole thing out on set and it involves a lot of complicated movements, although when the scene finishes Tanaka is standing in the wrong place, just slightly out of line for the shot Chikara wants of his dark expression as he stares down at the pool of blood on the floor.

 

“Cut!” he cries. “Narita can you move Tanaka’s marker over here,” he says, pointing to the position on the ground as his assistant scrambles to fix it.

 

When he turns back he’s stunned to find Tanaka and Noya chasing each other around the set and laughing as if they haven’t just filmed one of the most intense scenes in the movie. Tanaka roars as he picks a much smaller Noya up and swings him around, some of the crew members laughing at their actions.

 

“Cut it out!” he yells.

 

Nothing.

 

Chikara stomps back to his seat to grab his loudspeaker. “Sit your asses down before you break something!”

 

Tanaka and Noya both freeze in place, Noya slipping from Tanaka’s grasp onto the ground and they both stare sheepishly at the ground like little children that have just been scolded by their teacher. _I feel like I’m running a nursery here._

 

“Alright, from the top. Let’s run through that scene again.”

 

At least their seemingly endless energy keeps them motivated through the long hours it takes to finally get the scene perfect. Chikara watches the footage back, nodding. It looks good. Better than good. With some good editing from Yamaguchi this scene will pack a powerful punch.

 

Tanaka catches him and grins, slapping him across the back hard enough to sting. “See, I _knew_ you and me would work good together. Always did love your films.”

 

Chikara can’t help but blink up at him, a small smile curving his lips. “You did?”

 

“Yeah, man. I don’t think you’ve made a bad movie.”

 

Tanaka salutes him as he leaves, slinging a leather jacket over his shoulder and sauntering out with a whistle. _Curse him,_ Chikara thinks, _he really is a damn movie star._

* * *

 

 

There are days when no matter how many films Chikara has made, no matter how many awards he has won, he still feels inadequate, like he’s just some hack that managed to get lucky with not an original bone in his body.

 

Something just isn’t right about the scene where Hiro confesses his feelings to Kiyoko’s character. It’s too cliché for what he’s trying to do and he ends up hurling away his script with a yell as if he could throw all his frustration away with it. Somewhere far away, he can feel Futakuchi twitch.

 

The rest of the crew can sense his frustration and flutter around him, trying to prevent another outburst, but Chikara isn’t going to coddle anyone. He isn’t just here to make a film; he’s making a _story._ It’s one he’s passionate about and wants to tell right, otherwise he just has no right to call himself a filmmaker. So he curses a storm, and paces the set, and throws some more things as he tries to think of a way to make it work.

 

Tanaka approaches him with some trepidation, hands behind his back like he’s standing to attention and Chikara is his commander. “Hey, man,” he says, “maybe we should take a break. If it’s not working for you then–”

 

“No, no, no. It’s just…” Chikara tugs at his hair, thinking. “I need to work this out. You know Hiro, don’t you?” He’s long been convinced of it. Tanaka is very far removed from his sombre protagonist but some magic within him is able to reach inside himself and coax the character out.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Tanaka scratches his chin. “I guess.”

 

“How would he confess to the girl he likes? How do _you_ think he would do it?”

 

Tanaka’s face lights up. “Ah, see, I think Hiro would be the quiet type, you know? He looks all tough and serious on the outside but inside he’s just a big marshmallow that goes all soft when he’s with someone he cares about. But, like, that troubled relationship with his mother means he thinks he’s doomed to fail from the start so he wouldn’t confess at all.”

 

Chikara raises a brow. “So how do we deal with the scene then?”

 

“See, Hiro would all be trying to get closer to Kiyoko – I mean Haruka – and he’d try not to touch her but it would just be little things that he can't resist. A gentle touch on her arm, maybe.” As he speaks Tanaka rests a broad palm across Chikara’s upper arm, stepping closer. “Maybe he’d just sweep her hair out of her face and let his finger linger.” Chikara feels his breath catch as Tanaka brushes his hair behind his ear, warmth seeping into his skin as the back of his hand slides down his cheek, hovering for a long moment. He can feel his pulse racing as he stares into those burning eyes. Tanaka’s good.

 

“Then of course she’d just melt and be all ‘oh, Hiro, I love you so much’! and then they’d make out on the dining room table.”

 

Chikara coughs, stepping back out of Tanaka’s orbit, the mood gone. Has everyone been watching this display?

 

“It’s probably best you stick to Hiro’s character. I’m less convinced of your Haruka.”

 

Tanaka shrugs good-naturedly.

 

“If I may,” Kiyoko interjects softly and offers some insight into her own character.

 

It’s at that moment Chikara realises he’s hit the jackpot: a good script with some minor adjustments, two excellent leading actors that are able to really get inside the heads of the characters, some of the best crew in the business, and a beautiful story that’s already reeling out in his mind with startling clarity. His heart pounds with excitement as he resets the scene and they film the new version, slotting it into his bigger vision as the perfect puzzle piece.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time filming is done Chikara is exhausted. When he looks in the mirror his eyes are ringed with dark circles and his hair hangs limp over his forehead like even it doesn’t have the energy. _I need to sleep for the next week._

 

It’s always a daunting feeling handing the footage over Yamaguchi for editing but he trusts him to work his magic and piece his clips together into a story that will entrance the audience, even if it feels a lot like handing over his baby for the chopping block. “Take good care of her,” he says very seriously and Yamaguchi gulps, frantically nodding his freckled head. Such an earnest kid, that one.

 

He’s not quite in the mood for the wrap party but he attends anyway, bleary eyed and tired. Someone plies him with champagne and he ends up chugging far too much of it until the whole room sparkles, the glitter from Kiyoko’s dress catching his eye and shimmering. These things are supposed to be fun, in theory, but really they’re just an excuse to let loose after months of rigorous filming.

 

So once he’s well on his way to inebriated, he finds he can’t begrudge Noya whooping and spilling champagne everywhere as he flails about on the dancefloor, wearing sunglasses that light up in red and green. He has his arm slung around Suga the two of them drunkenly dance to Nicki Minaj. In the corner he sees Tsukishima – the bassist from the band _Hall 3_ – sniggering as he films them.

 

“You dancin’?” Chikara jumps as an arm rests on his shoulder, slurred words mumbled into his ear.

 

“Wha–” he stumbles as he turns. It’s Tanaka, laughing into the crook of his neck.

 

“So you can let loose! Knew you had it in ya!”

 

The next thing he knows a hand is tugging him onto the dancefloor, weaving him deftly through the throng of bodies. Those deliciously strong arms wind around his neck as Tanaka jumps up and down to the beat of the music. His eyes close and Chikara takes the moment to observe the absolute freedom on his face as he sings along – badly because he's drunk, but in an endearing way – and the very well-built frame spilling from his tank top. He wants to attribute the sweat rolling down the back of his neck to the heat but he’s not sure it’s the truth.

 

Then one of Tanaka’s hands slide down, beneath his shirt and incriminatingly close to his ass. If he weren’t so drunk he’d probably slap him away but right now the heat is swelling through him and he feels absolutely electric, every touch static against his skin.

 

“Wanna get out of here?” is whispered hot against his ear.

 

Chikara answers him with a heated look and they go stumbling into the hall, a tangle of limbs as Tanaka presses him up against a wall and kisses open-mouthed down his neck. Chikara grips the stubble on his head, rough enough to ground him from the high, and tugs his mouth back to his.

 

“Bedroom,” he pants into his mouth.

 

Tanaka’s grin turns wicked as they go stumbling up the stairs, hand in hand like a pair of teens.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chikara doesn’t know what it means. It was some of the best sex he’s ever had in his life, and honestly he doesn’t really mind if it was just good sex, but damn he can’t stop thinking about Tanaka now. His abs, his teeth, his smile. Everything about him is so damn enticing.

 

So it’s incredibly frustrating that Tanaka goes on tour with Kiyoko to promote the film while he’s left behind to make sure the finished piece is as perfect as he can possibly make it. Normally Chikara is happy to fall down the rabbit hole of work but it’s hard to forget Tanaka when he has to stare at every bloody angle of his face on screen and remember what his kisses taste like when he licks his lip as part of a character tick.

 

“Oh, look, Ennoshita! The interview is on.”

 

Chikara looks up and sees Tanaka and Kiyoko sitting on a guest sofa as a host interviews them on the process of filming and preparing for their roles. They look so good together. He knows this already; they embody his characters perfectly with their mix of refined and rough-around-the-edges, like a classic bad-boy and good-girl combination that the public eat up eagerly.

 

“One last question before we go. Everyone wants to know if the romance on-screen may have sparked a little passion behind the scenes?” The host leans closer, a teasing smile on her lips.

 

Tanaka and Kiyoko look at one another and laugh but the way Tanaka blushes and rubs the back of his neck is pretty telling. Kiyoko resolutely denies it but it’s obvious the host doesn’t believe them, ending the broadcast with some suggestive jokes.

 

Chikara punches the off button on the remote and then shakes his head at himself for getting annoyed. What did he expect? Tanaka hasn’t called. They hadn’t said it was anything but a good time, and it’s not like they were even friends, so by all accounts he has no right to be upset.

 

But he is. He’s always been terrible at casual relationships. He is just falls too easily. _You walked right into that one,_ he thinks, and goes back to helping Yamaguchi edit Tanaka’s stupid face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A fuzzy picture of Kiyoko and Tanaka leaving their hotel is slapped across the front page of all the major tabloids a few days later. The headlines are the usual inane garbage like: _ROMANCE SIZZLES ON SET_ and _JAPAN_ _’S HOTTEST NEW COUPLE?_

 

Chikara rolls his eyes and buys the strongest coffee he can get, vowing to let it go. Fuck that beautiful jawline. Even in terrible pictures it looks delightful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The premiere is always the best part of making a movie. This is when he gets to show off all his hard work and soak in the applause like it’s his giant-sized porcelain tub at home. He dresses himself up in a tailored three-piece tuxedo, smoothing back his dark hair and then arrives in style, pulling up to the premiere in a sleek black limousine. Chikara isn’t the star of this show but even so, the cameras are flashing in his eyes as he slides out and waves.

 

Then a murmur goes through the crowd and he knows who it is before he even turns around. Tanaka fills out his charcoal suit well, accentuating every line of his body. Chikara drinks him in appreciatively until Tanaka catches his eye and grins, striding over to him. He tries not to blush, cursing his irritatingly pale skin that shows everything.

 

“Damn, you look good,” Tanaka says into his ear as they pose for photos.

 

Chikara feels his pulse quicken, glancing at Tanaka out of the corner of his eye. Is Tanaka flirting? Does he not realise what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just one of those people that likes skinship? To avoid any further embarrassment, he pulls out of Tanaka’s grip, mourning the loss of that delicious body heat. One last glance behind him that he can’t resist reveals Tanaka’s puzzled face, head cocked to the side.

 

Chikara escapes into the darkness inside and sees his film on the big screen for the first time, something coiling tight inside him as he watches the complete transformation of Tanaka into the character of Hiro. The way his face seems to shadow, haunted by the things he’s seen and done. The way his expression softens around Kiyoko as he learns to open himself up again.

 

It’s almost a shame he went into music. There’s something so incredibly captivating about him that it makes his fingers itch to hold a camera. Idly, he wonders what watching him in concert is like. Tanaka in all black, hands wrapped around the mike as he sings low and throaty, sweat beading on golden skin.

 

He gulps and steals away, suddenly flushed, the room suffocating.

 

Splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom, he gazes at himself in the mirror and can’t resist shaking his head, smiling. _You’re crushing like a twelve year-old girl, Chikara. This is just embarrassing._

 

He decides he’s too pathetic for an after party and hails a taxi home to drink himself into a stupor and hopefully forget what Tanaka Ryouusuke’s face looks like.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The reviews are glowing. ‘An understated masterpiece’ and ‘an action film that actually has a compelling plot’, are some of the comments from reviewers. His eyes skim over the ones about the chemistry between Tanaka and Kiyoko, taking a gulp of coffee and burning his tongue.

 

He pours the offending liquid down the sink and then stubs his toe on the doorframe.

 

“I am an award-winning director!” he yells at his empty apartment. Predictably, it does not reply.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s weeks later that he gets a ticket through the mail. It’s for a Skinheads concert in Tokyo and with it comes a backstage pass. There’s no note or comment he can find, even when he turns it around and rifles through the envelope. Hope flickers faint in his heart, even as he tries to banish it. Still, he can’t help but dress up to go, plastering on his tightest skinny jeans, and shrugging on his leather jacket.

 

He’s completely unprepared for what their concert is like, people wearing all black, rings of thick eyeliner, shaved and dyed hair, and far more studs on every available piece of clothing than Chikara thinks is really necessary. He feels a bit out of place in the crowd until the lights dim and the first few beats of the drum vibrate through the ground, running from his feet all the way up through his entire body, humming beneath his skin.

 

“Alright, everyone! Thanks for coming!” yells a familiar voice as Tanaka runs onto the stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder. “We are The Skinheads!”

 

They blast into a loud number with screeching guitars and Tanaka’s rough vocals as he screams into the mike. It’s not generally his thing but onstage Tanaka is every bit as magnetic as he is on screen. Yet Chikara can’t deny there’s something rawer about him up there live; the way he seems to become the music, eyes shut as he sings. Chikara’s eyes are glued to the deft way his fingers dance over the strings, remembering the heat of his touch against his skin. He’s a god up there and everyone around him jumps and screams along, worshipping him the way he deserves.

 

Chikara can’t do anything but stand and gape.

 

The song winds down and Tanaka takes a swig of water, throat bobbing as he drinks. His voice is hoarse when he grins into the mike and says, “So this song is a little different but I guess it just poured out of me and I kind of wanted to share it. I don’t know if he’s here tonight but if he is: Chikara, this one’s for you.”

 

His heart skips a beat, eyes widening as Tanaka strums a softer melody and begins to sing what can only be described as a love song, about a lover’s dark eyes and fiery touch. He feels his knees weaken, the words washing over him as he stares in disbelief. But Kiyoko? What about Kiyoko?

 

Chikara doesn’t think he hears another song from the concert as blood pounds in his ears, stunned into silence. After it’s over it takes him a few tries to move his frozen legs before he’s hunting backstage, growing desperate until he sees Tanaka laughing with his blond bassist, a towel slung over his broad shoulders.

 

He turns at just the right moment, eyes catching Chikara’s, and the smile slowly drops. Chikara doesn’t even allow him the moment of doubt he sees in Tanaka’s eyes – and how did he miss it when it’s been right in front of him? – flinging his arms around Tanaka’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

 

His mouth is hot and tastes like sweat and beer. Somehow he likes it anyway.

 

Tanaka pulls back, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I didn’t know if you would come.”

 

Chikara just kisses him again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Chikara sees a stupid headline about Tanaka and Kiyoko he rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. The screen is lit up with a text from Tanaka.

_Last day of the tour. Be home tomorrow!_

 

Chikara smiles. _See you soon._

 

 


End file.
